


The Candle

by DemonicGeek



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Angst, M/M, No beta we go down like demons, PTSD Moment, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicGeek/pseuds/DemonicGeek
Summary: What happens the first time Aziraphale lights a candle in his book shop post Apoca-not?This ficlet wasn't leaving my head, so here you go.





	The Candle

And so the Apocadidn’t passed, Heaven and Hell quieted, and a nightingale sang on Berkeley Square.

Life continued on, with almost no one wiser that it had nearly come to a screeching halt. And an angel and a demon spent most of their time as they’d once desired to, together. And if someone noticed that a bookshop in Soho suddenly had quite a few lovely plants decorating it or that there were now two proprietors rather than one, no one was going to question it. That was all very normal these days anyway.

And the ending, or rather new beginning, was a happy one truly. But some scars linger, whether we will them to or not.

And so it is a few months after not-the-end-of-the-world that Crowley enters the book shop, casually staring at his phone. Contemplating what argument he could cause on social media next, the white/gold or blue/black dress had been particularly enjoyable to him.

“Angel, d’you think that the humans are overly invested in what species a platypus really is or…” He finally glanced up from his phone.

“Hmm, what was that dear?”

Crowley didn’t answer. He was staring. Staring intently at a single, small flame glowing from a single simple pillar candle sitting on Aziraphale’s desk. He stared watching the flame flicker gently in the book shop. His logical side tried to override, it’s just a candle. Only a candle. Not anything to worry about. Simple candle, seen them how many times over the millennia? I mean indoor lighting was relatively new. Get a grip, it’s just a damn candle.

His logical brain was losing the fight.

Somewhere in the back of his head he registered a voice. “Crowley?”

He couldn’t hear it at all. He was back in the book shop. There were flames. He was screaming Aziraphale’s name. Flames. Small flames, large flames, flames everywhere. His best friend, his balancing half, his love who he’d never told… it didn’t matter he was gone. It was just flames.

He continued to stare at the flame.

“Crowley, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale was yelling now. The worry quite evident. He didn’t know what was wrong but he knew something was very, very wrong.

He approached Crowley. Touched his shoulder. No response.

“CROWLEY”

Nothing. No response.

Finally Aziraphale tried to follow where he was looking, desperate for any hint as to what was going on, whatever could be the matter. He followed the direction of Crowley’s glasses and saw nothing but his own desk, a few scattered books, with the candle.

Realization dawned and Aziraphale cursed. He ran over to the candle and hurriedly blew it out turning back around to face Crowley.

Crowley silently sank to the floor in a way that only a snake can as if his body wound in on itself and simply collapsed.

Aziraphale rushed over and kneeled in front of him. He gently removed Crowley’s glasses and threw them to the side. His heart broke at the sight. He’d seen many looks on Crowley’s face over the years. Oh most of them had been confidence, swagger, and his attempt at appearing calm and in charge. He had seen frustration and chagrin and on rare occasion even righteous anger cross his face. But he’d never seen what he could only describe as utter despair.

They sat like that for what seemed years before Crowley spoke in no more than a whisper. “They killed my best friend.”

“Crowley. Crowley I’m right here.” Aziraphale reached out, gently cupping Crowley’s face the way he couldn’t when he’d found him that day. He let his thumb gently brush over Crowley’s cheek. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I… I thought they killed you and I never told you.”

“Never told me?”

“I had six millennia and I never told you I loved you.”

“And I love you. But you did tell me, you know. In a thousand different ways.”

This finally seemed to penetrate Crowley’s shock. The shields he wore weren’t back up but he was no longer staring past Aziraphale and was instead looking at him. “What?”

“You and I both know my dear that there is much more to love than words. Forget the times you literally saved me, what about the times where you somehow magically knew just what food I wanted? Don’t think I didn’t see you not eating at times. Or the times that you showed up with just the right book. Remember the time in Alexandria where you went and found that stash of scrolls after the sacking? Did you think I never noticed? I knew Crowley. I’ve known for eons. I just wish I’d been able to move a little faster.”

Crowley’s eyes widened for a moment and then a long sigh escaped and he simply leaned forward, allowing Aziraphale to catch him as he fell. They sat for hours, Crowley’s head in Aziraphale’s lap, Aziraphale gently brushing his hand through his hair. Quietly murmuring remembered love stories that lasted six millennia.


End file.
